


Crestwood and Undead and Demons, oh My!

by Tahlruil



Series: The Weight of the World [7]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Gallows Humor, Humor, Mild Language, Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-07-29 09:06:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7678429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tahlruil/pseuds/Tahlruil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'... With the disaster that had occurred at the Winter Palace behind her, Sylaera was finally free to pursue a lead on Stroud, Hawke’s Warden contact. She’d expected Hawke to just pass along a message or meet them closer to the cave where Stroud was supposedly hiding out; instead, the mage had informed her that he would join her party. He was bored of mountains, he’d told her with a grin, and wanted some new scenery to look at. ...'</p><p>Even if she enjoys Hawke's company and he makes a fun addition to her party, Alysia must come to terms with the strength of Hawke's magic compared to her own, and find a different kind of strength inside herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Decisions in the Rain

**Author's Note:**

> The start of this has been sitting on my computer forever, but I only just got up the gumption to finish it. I'm terrible when it comes to motivating myself. Also, if you're reading any of my other stories, don't worry! They should all be getting updates this weekend - I've just been insanely busy.
> 
> If you haven't already, check out the other stories about Alysia Trevelyon and Jarod Hawke! This story can sort of be read on it's own, but the other stuff fleshes out the backgrounds and the relationship they have with each other.
> 
> Anyway, this story is set in New Crestwood, where I'll re-imagine events there with the addition of Jarod Hawke. Even if I get why, I always thought it was strange that Hawke leaves the Inquisitor, and I know my Hawke would never miss out on the adventure.
> 
> I'm not really practiced when it comes to writing fight scenes, so they might be terrible. Any suggestions or constructive criticism is welcome! I wanna get better at such things.
> 
> Thanks so very much for reading, and please comment! Comments are what keep me going. <3

Once upon a time, Alysia had loved the sound of rain. It had comforted her throughout her life – the sound was the same everywhere, after all. Pounding against the glass of her childhood room or the shared room of the youngest female apprentices, it was the same. It comforted her the night before her Harrowing, and helped soothe and center her on some days when her research wasn’t going well. The sound of rain was a constant in her life, something she could count on.

That, however, was before Crestwood.

Why the rain there bothered her, she wasn’t exactly sure. She loved it on the Storm Coast, where it came with strong winds that smelled of the sea, the crash of waves only enhancing the sound. In the Fallow Mire, it made sense, even if it smelled of green, decaying things. In both places, she was glad to have the comfort of something so familiar, especially when it pelted against her tent at night. In Crestwood, however, it just felt… gloomy. Gloomy and heavy, somehow unnatural – she didn’t like it at all.

Thankfully, her companions made the slogging through the mud a little bit better. Not that she was _in_ the mud, of course. In her opinion, paths were for people with no creativity, so she usually eschewed them for anything that was not the path; if it was high and slightly dangerous, even better. Most of her friends were used to it and no longer commented – Bull even occasionally offered her a shoulder to grab onto when she slipped. He and Dorian were usually content to follow after her, a bemused and indulgent expression on their faces. The rest came more or less reluctantly, except Vivienne; for the First Enchanter, she had to stay on the Blighted path. That was why she usually left Madame de Fer out of her adventures.

Bull and Varric were with her, of course, with Cassandra rounding out their party, which meant she could clamber up rocks to her heart’s content without worrying about what the others thought. Or at least, she could have if it weren’t for the fifth and rather unexpected member of their party. With the disaster that had occurred at the Winter Palace behind her, Sylaera had finally been free to pursue a lead on Stroud, Hawke’s Warden contact. She’d expected Hawke to just pass along a message or meet them closer to the cave where Stroud was supposedly hiding out; instead, the mage had informed her that he would join her party. He was bored of mountains, he’d told her with a grin, and wanted some new scenery to look at. She supposed he’d gotten his wish, though he didn’t seem entirely happy about it if the constant complaining was anything to go by.

“This place is almost as cheery as the Wounded Coast. Makes a body homesick.”

“Hawke, you _hate_ the Wounded Coast.”

“But I _am_ big on self-flagellation. That’s why I keep deciding to tag along with you on your little walkabouts, Varric.”

“Both of you shut up.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a spoilsport, Seeker?”

“No.”

“Well you are, just for future reference.”

“Ugh. I should have stabbed you when I had the chance.”

“Crack team you’ve put together here, Boss. The group harmony is really gonna help us when we have to kill things.”

“Alysia, do you have to walk up there? And we’ll kill things just fine, Bull. Don’t you worry about that.”

Bull had a bit of a point, Alysia thought. Maybe Cassandra hadn’t been the best choice to bring along, not with Varric _and_ Hawke following her. But Blackwall was so depressing, and he was her only other warrior. With the gloom and rain and demons, Crestwood was dreary enough. Blackwall muttering and sulking behind her in addition to all that would have driven her insane. She still could have brought someone else, but with two mages and an archer already with her, another melee fighter was vital. Cole could have been the answer, bu-

Her thoughts were interrupted when her left foot hit the slick surface of the boulder she was climbing on wrong. She let out a soft gasp, not wanting to alert her bantering companions (mostly Hawke), but of course the other mage noticed anyway. He began to swear quite colorfully – Andraste would not have approved of the things he was suggesting about the Holy Prophet – and moved to stand just below her. She sort of resented the implication, because she almost never fell, but he couldn’t know that. Bull, Varric and Cassandra just watched, so completely resigned to her scampering habits that they barely blinked.

Hawke wasn’t nearly as impassive, and Alysia couldn’t help but roll her eyes as he began demanding she return to the path. Ignoring him and his offer of aid, the woman scrabbled for a handhold, sliding a few more inches before she managed. Once secure, it took her less than a breath to clamber back to the top, where she paused to get her bearings and survey the area.

“-ckless, absolutely reckless, Alysia. You could have broken your neck. We’re walking to New Blighted Crestwood, not some fucking remote outpost. There’s a road right here, and by Andraste’s flaming ass, you should be walking on it!” Huh. He was still ranting on, which was almost impressive. None of her other companions had ever protested for so long. “Now come down before you injure yourself!”

“I think there’s trouble ahead,” she answered calmly, lifting a hand to shield her eyes from the rain, squinting in a valiant but ultimately useless attempt to improve her eyesight. “Demons maybe? Can’t quite make it all out. Come on.” Refusing to acknowledge Hawke’s indignant, inarticulate squawk of protest, Alysia got off the boulder in the quickest way possible; she slid, gaining quite a bit of speed before finally hitting the ground with a bone-jarring ‘thunk’. Used to the sensation, she started walking immediately after she landed, reaching for her staff and giving it an experimental twirl. When the wood got wet it always threw off her grip just a little, and she needed to remind herself of that before their next fight started.

“Alysia!” Maker, was Hawke _still_ going?

“Hey now, Boss knows what she’s doing. Don’t get so riled up about it – she’s not gonna listen anyway.”

That was why she loved the Qunari. He was so sensible and down to earth, willing to accept the inevitable with grace and only a few rumblings of disapproval. He didn’t harp on her about it, unlike _some_ people. 

“Can we discuss this later?”

“I agree with the Seeker. … huh. It really is the end of the world.”

“Dwarf.” Varric wisely heeded the warning in Cassandra’s voice, which was a small miracle; he must have caught the same sounds of battle that Alysia had. In one smooth movement that she deeply envied, he shrugged Bianca from her holster and was ready to shoot. That was the signal for the whole party to enter battle-mode; part of her hated that it hadn’t been _her_ warning that had the banter die off and forced everyone into a slightly more serious frame of mind. After everything, did they still not trust her?

No time to think about that, because as they rounded the next bend in the road they could all see the fight going on. Alysia didn’t recognize the armor of the men who were under attack by the group of undead, but they weren’t of the Venatori - that made them potential allies in her eyes. She broke into a run, along with Varric and the two warriors; none of them were close enough to land an effective attack.

That was nowhere near true for one Jarod Hawke.

All of the hair on her body shivered into a standing position as lightning shot through the air on her left side. As the bolt neared their enemies it branched off, and Hawke’s spell managed to hit half of the undead all at once. For a heartbeat of time, awe was the only thing she could feel, forcing her to slow her movement into a near stop. That spell was _magnificent_ , and so far beyond anything she could manage. Why, oh why had she let Hawke join her? It was one thing to be shown up by Dorian, who’d been celebrated for his magic all his life, but quite another to have a ‘mere apostate’ completely outstrip her abilities.

This was it… this fight was when they all realized how truly incompetent she was. Maker, they would confine her to Skyhold constantly, only allowing her out on heavily escorted trips to close major Rifts. There would be no more exploring, no more traveling across southern Thedas to help the people. Her advisors would send Hawke in her place, and she would forever be consigned to the roll of a living doll, and-

Time started again, and she was running once more, shoving her thoughts and fears aside. No matter how powerful her new companion was, she was still in this fight. She could worry about the future when it happened, because there was no place for it when they were under attack. As soon as she reached her own optimal spot on the battlefield, she reached for her magic and cast a barrier that encased the whole of her party… except for Hawke, who was too far away. He was also the one who might need it most, because his awe-inspiring, flashy spell had attracted the attention of every single undead they faced. Now they were rushing for him, though Bull and Cassandra let out taunting shouts that drew the notice of several walking corpses. She estimated there were about twenty foes, and most were still on their way to Hawke.

The way he was flinging his magic around wasn’t helping that situation at all. Using his force magic, he dragged a handful down to the ground; Varric took immediate advantage, sending a hail of arrows their way. Because he was a tricky little shit, the last arrow that hit exploded, engulfing the area in fire. He laughed as the living corpses burned, and two more peeled away from the group to go after him. Knowing the dwarf had a contingency plan in place for that, Alysia kept her focus on the main horde, gathering and channeling her magic into her staff. The Immolation spell that she unleashed certainly had an effect on the shambling creatures; those in the center of the blast were done for, turning to ash before they could hit the ground. The three that had been at the edges were blown back several steps and had turned into walking torches. As they weren’t very bright _or_ coordinated, they lit several more of their fellows on fire as they flailed about.

Alysia only had a moment to be proud of her attack – she’d been getting so much better, with Dorian, Solas and Vivienne to help her. When she saw them all next, she would have to thank them for being so patient with her. The feeling of victory didn’t last, however, because the barrier around her flickered out with several of the shambling corpses turning their attention her way. As she gathered her magic to cast another, one not of her making sprung up around her… and it was absolutely terrible. Weak, it guttered like a candle in the wind; she couldn’t imagine it would withstand more than one or two blows. Had _Hawke_ cast this? Maker’s mercy, she’d been throwing up barriers stronger than this since she was a green apprentice!

She took only a moment to hurl a bolt of lightning at the closest corpse, and the electricity arced from it to the next, felling both immediate concerns in one elegant spell. Then she looked over her shoulder at Hawke, sending him a disbelieving look. He was so strong, so capable… so why were his barriers absolute shit? “Don’t waste your magic guarding me!” she called over to the man, who was still slinging his flashy, attention grabbing spells. “Not when I can do it so much better!” Her staff sliding through her hands like butter, she used a move Dorian had drilled her on endlessly to direct her magic behind her. It felt so good cast this sort of spell, and strength flowed through her and then arrowed out, directed by the blade of her staff. Her version of a barrier sprang to life around Hawke, and she could hear his yelp of surprise even over Bull’s roaring, Cassandra’s shouting, and all the other battle sounds.

Deeply pleased, she sent him a smug look as one of the walking dead flung itself against the barrier and it held. It held against the next slam of rotting flesh, and the next, and the next. The same couldn’t be said for the barrier around her – one half-melted corpse had reached her while she was distracted. If she hadn’t heard the moan, she would have been in real trouble. As it was, the barrier wrapped around her immediately dissipated at the barest touch, leaving her vulnerable. Trying to keep her face impassive – she couldn’t show any weakness! – she whipped her staff around once more, dragging the sharp point of her staff blade down the creature’s face. It didn’t really hurt the stupid thing, but the move did push it back a few steps, giving her room to move. This time she didn’t summon fire or lightning; instead, she reached for the cold, chilling touch of ice magic. Solas would have been able to freeze several enemies, because he was a master of his craft. She could only manage one… but it was enough.

Alysia could see her breath in the now frigid air around her as she used the spell, goosebumps rising on her flesh. Andraste’s tears she hated using cold magic, even as she enjoyed learning the theory behind it. Shivers raced through her even as the corpse who threatened her was encased in a thin veneer of ice, ready to be shattered. Except none of her spells were strong enough, and Bull and Cassandra were busy elsewhere; falling back to be closer to Hawke might be a better plan. As she prepared to do that, she felt a puff of air move over her left cheek, ruffling her hair as something shot through the air. Before she could turn to see what it was, a stone fist slammed into the frozen creature, shattering it into dozens of tiny pieces. When she looked over her shoulder at Hawke, he had the nerve to send her a jaunty salute with his staff. It should have been irritating, but she found a smile curving her lips as she turned her attention back to the task at hand.

Those first few moments had been the most hectic and dangerous, and that was only because of the numbers they were dealing with. Once a good portion of their foes had been decimated, it was quick work to mop up the rest. Bull and Hawke were especially helpful there, with their powerful attacks taking out small groups every time they struck. Peripherally, Alysia was aware that the armored men who’d been under attack before her party interfered were also fighting the corpses, raising them in her esteem a little. 

She still wanted to know who they were though.

When Cassandra cut down the last corpse that could still move, silence fell over the area as they all took a moment to breathe. The barriers that Alysia had continued to surround her allies with faded, taking away the small comfort they offered her. She felt exposed, and all her insecurities came rushing back. Hawke was so powerful, so much more experienced. He would be a wonderful Inquisitor, as much as he didn’t want the job. No one would whisper behind their hands that they doubted his abilities; Leliana and Josephine wouldn’t dare to discuss his faults right to his face. Even if he had been an apostate, he would be such a powerful example to the Templars, who would see a strong mage that was absolutely secure in his power despite not going through a Harrowing. Hawke could close so many more Rifts than she could, because he would be able to fight his way to them so much faster. She was a terrible sham, and her being the Inquisitor was a joke, and-

“Thank you for your assistance. With so many to fight against, my fellow and I were near to being overwhelmed. You’re Inquisition forces, aren’t you?”

“We are with the Inquisition,” Varric informed them, his eyes holding that glint that meant he was about to stir the pot. “In fact, you have the honor of being in the presence of the Lady Inquisitor herself. Please try to contain your awe and keep your jaws from dropping – being fawned over tends to make her cranky. And trust me, you don’t want to deal with a cranky Inquisitor.”

“Varric.” Alysia felt heat rising to her cheeks as she looked away from the still-unknown warriors, focusing her attention on the dwarf. “Don’t help.” He only shrugged and set Bianca in place on his back, clearly trying not to grin.

“What, that’s it? Three words from her and you’re done? I have to beg and plead with you, or bribe you with shiny things – dwarves love shiny things, you see,” Hawke added in an aside to the bewildered looking strangers. Alysia hid her face in one hand, wishing her companions weren’t so insufferable. She should have brought Solas and Blackwall after all. “Varric thinks they’re like magpies. Anyway, why do you listen to her? You never listened to me, not even after ten years. Do you like her better, Varric? Has she stolen your affections?” He was pouting; she didn’t even have to look over to see it. He’d be wearing that exaggerated pout and have his muscular arms crossed over his chest, the picture of a dejected mage.

“She didn’t have to steal them, Hawke. I offered them freely. Dimples is so much mor-”

“Enough of this nonsense!” Cassandra’s sharp voice cut through the bickering, her accent making her sound even more formidable than she might have otherwise. “Control yourselves, or I will send you back to Skyhold like children.” Alysia couldn’t help but shoot her a grateful look, and was warmed by the small smile the Seeker gave her in return. With the troublemakers silent, she was able to turn her attention back to the strangers, offering them an apologetic smile.

“Forgive them. They get excited after a battle. I am the Inquisitor, and I’m glad we could be of help.”

“Thank the Maker.” One of them murmured, looking up to the wounded sky. “You’ll be able to help the villagers – didn’t feel right abandoning them to all this madness, but we’ve got our orders. They’re barely hanging on in New Crestwood – if it isn’t the dead, it’s bandits or demons. The people are overrun. I’m glad to know help in on the way. I know you’ll be able to save them, Inquisitor.”

The weight of that statement settled on her shoulders, and if she’d been alone or less conscious of the image she had to present, Alysia would have let them sag. More lives and deaths in her hands, more trouble that she would be expected to solve. Another adventure that everyone would gossip about, more decisions that everyone would criticize. 

Would it ever end?

“We’ll certainly do our best,” she answered, hiding her fatigue behind her steady, confident voice. “Though we certainly wouldn’t turn away any help. Your orders cannot be delayed long enough to address this crisis?”

“No.” The other warrior spoke, his face much harder and his voice full of impatience. “We’ve been held up enough already with battling the undead. We have orders, and Warden-Commander Clarel is waiting eagerly for our report.”

“You’re Grey Wardens?” Her even voice had wavered, revealing her surprise, but Alysia was too shocked to berate herself for it.

“Yes.”

“Indeed we are.” The first man interjected, shooting his sterner compatriot an irritated look. “And as much as I dislike it, my friend is right. We do have our orders, Inquisitor.” Now his eyes were on her again, and he did look truly discomforted. “I’d rather be protecting the people, but the Warden-Commander assured us that our mission is of the highest importance. Don’t like hunting down one of our own, but if he’s gone mad like she says… well. We’ve always done what we must.”

At her back, she could feel tension radiating from Hawke, and she could see Cassandra take hold of her sheathed sword; she did hope her friends could hold onto their tempers. Bull would be absolutely bland and Varric’s mask wouldn’t crack, but she had two rather… intemperate wild cards on her hands. She kept her own expression carefully schooled, tipping her head to one side.

“There’s another Warden in the area?”

“Indeed, my lady. He’s dangerous, according to our information. Be careful if you should happen to encounter him during your travels.” The talkative Warden was young under the coating of rain and mud, Alysia realized, and he had that worshipful look in his eyes. There was something appreciative under that, something that had her fighting another blush. “Hopefully we’ll find him first, and you won’t have to deal with him. I am truly glad that you will be able to help the people while we-”

“That’s enough out of you,” the other interrupted gruffly. “We must be on our way, Inquisitor. Take care, and watch for the dead.” He clamped a hand on the back of the younger Warden’s neck, using his hold to steer the man away from them. The friendlier Warden looked back several times, until the curtain of rain had obscured their forms.

“You have an admirer, Dimples.”

“That doesn’t matter.” Hawke’s voice was a low growl, like he was angry at something. But what? Alysia turned to look at him – at her whole party, not just him because she shouldn’t be noticing the way the rain had plastered his robes to his muscular form, and Maker she was a fool – but didn’t see any sign of irritation. Varric, however, was giving the man a knowing look.

“Looks like the Wardens are after the same thing we are, boss. Maybe we should head right to the caves Hawke mentioned. Better than tying ourselves down at the village.”

“We cannot ignore the plight of the people, Iron Bull. It is our duty to lend them our aid. Warden Stroud can surely remain hidden for a time. We should go to New Crestwood and settle matters there.”

“I’m with the Seeker on this one.”

“Stroud is canny,” Hawke added, nodding. “He’ll be able to evade his pursuers, while the villagers are defenseless. But it’s up to you, Alysia.”

Of course it was. It always was – that was the burden that was hers, the mantle of her title. Her decision to make, with lives hanging in the balance. Without Stroud, they might never learn what was happening with the Wardens, but those in New Crestwood needed help as soon as they could get it. One life that could lead to saving the world, or many lives that could ruin their chances at obtaining much needed information? Either way, she was making a gamble that the Inquisition could ill afford to use.

“We’ll go to New Crestwood.” Alysia was proud that her voice didn’t waver as she issued the proclamation. As long as she could pretend to be decisive, they would continue to follow her. Even if she didn’t have their complete trust, she did command their loyalty… for the moment. So she had to be strong. “We can’t ignore what’s happening there, and we can establish a base in this area.”

“If you say so Boss.” Bull agreed easily, finally strapping his massive hammer onto his back – he’d been leaning on it before. The Qunari didn’t seem cross at being overruled, which she was endlessly grateful for. “They’ll be glad to see us, and maybe we can get outta the rain for a while.”

Alysia shot him a smile, and he winked his one good eye at her. “Alright then. We’re decided… let’s head out.” She waited a moment to make sure everyone was ready to follow, using the time to holster her own weapon. Her companions fell into formation, and she nodded once before turning away, ready to lead them into New Crestwood. They were a united front, and they would save those in the village, then find Stroud, or so she told herself in an internal pep talk. There was nothing they couldn’t do so long as they were of one mind.

“Maferath’s hairy balls, Alysia! Get down from there before you break your neck!”

Alright, they weren’t in perfect harmony, but they could still save the world. Probably.


	2. Loss in Victory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I have been thoroughly lost in the land of Marvel, and have completely neglected some of my other babies. T_T I am a bad fic-mom. I know I should have updated 'Fidelity' as the first non-Marvel thing I did, since more people were reading and enjoying that, but... well. Alysia and Jarod were my first ever babies, and I've been writing out their story in my head even as I've neglected to put it down on paper. Starting here felt right. <3
> 
> Comment if you enjoyed it? Thanks so much for reading, those few of you who will!

“This is bullshit.”

“Bull, I know how much you enjoy it, and honestly I like it too, but we can’t just-”

“Come _ON_ Boss! Think of the thrill! The rush! The glory! The _blood_. All of it could be ours!”

“Bull. We are not abandoning New Crestwood to track and kill a dragon.”

“Grrrrrnnng.”

“Sorry. Once we get everything else settled, I promise we’ll go after it.” Alysia couldn’t help but smile at the way Bull let out another unhappy rumble – he didn’t _pout_ , exactly, but Maker he came close. It was oddly endearing, and she sort of wanted coo at him and give him a hug. “For now we have bandits to deal with.”

“Then an awful lot of demons. Don’t forget the demons!” At Hawke’s cheerful interjection, Bull immediately began growling and swearing under his breath again. In response to her glare, the other mage only grinned cheekily, resting his hands behind his head in a show of ease and utter unrepentance.

“Thank you, Hawke.”

“Here to help.” Oooh, when he winked while teasing her like that she wanted to… nothing, absolutely nothing. Certainly nothing improper or that would involve touching in any way. She was the bloody Inquisitor and the world was falling to pieces – this was not the time to engage in fantasies about the Blighted Champion of Kirkwall! Having him accompany her on her journeys was obviously unacceptable. She would make sure never to allow him to tag along again.

“I ought to make you stay here and craft healing salves.” She said off-handedly, delighting in his brief look of utter horror. Then his mouth was opening again, and she was braced for his retort, ready for the games to truly begin… only to have Cassandra hiss a Nevarran word in disgust before addressing one of the thorns in her side.

“Hawke, if you do not stop _pecking_ at the Inquisitor, I shall be forced to intervene on her behalf.”

“Ho! Pecking! Because he’s Hawke. I see what you did there, Seeker. Very clever.”

“I was not trying to… ugh. You are insufferable, Dwarf.”

“Don’t worry, Varric – I still love and appreciate you.”

“I know, Hawke. It’s how I find the strength to continue on in these dark and trying times.”

It would have been bad enough if all this were happening in private, but they were in the _Mayor’s home_ and he was watching them with bewildered, judging eyes.

“We’re very good at what we do,” Alysia hastened to tell him, offering an apologetic smile. She thought it would have all gone over much better if the lot of them didn’t look like drowned rats. Really she was beginning to wonder if she’d ever be warm and dry again. “The bandits won’t be plaguing your people for much longer, I swear by Andraste’s sword. You’re certain we must go through them to drain the lake?” The question had been answered several times, but the whole thing just felt… strange, and she had the vague notion that the Mayor was hiding something. 

“Mm. Blasted darkspawn broke the controls, but I’m sure you’ll find a way to mend them. Will you be leaving immediately, or…?”

“I think it would be best if we pressed on.”

“As you say, my lady,” the agreement was rather undermined by the level of doubt in the man’s voice, but Alysia would take what she could. “It’s true we don’t have the supplies to keep you longer than a night, but if you wanted to stay that long to get dry at least… well. We’d manage.”

“If we did stay, I assure you the Inquisition would not drain your resources.” Maker, why did Cassandra always have to sound so stiff? “We have our own supplies and would not think of wasting yours. Indeed, I shall send word to the Inquisition once we take our leave – we’ve cleared enough of the road that a few scouts might be able to get some of the most critical supplies here. They could stay and bolster your defenses while we are ending the demon menace once and for all.”

“That would be… well. It would be something. And you’re sure you don’t want to stay the night?”

Hawke was sticking his lower lip out at her in an exaggerated pout and even Bull looked vaguely hopeful, but she just couldn’t see what the benefit was. They were all fine – rested up from the earlier fight and with no major injuries – and Alysia wanted to just get this over with.

“No,” she answered, being sure to use her firmest, most implacable tone. “We’ve eaten and gotten our breath back – with the information you’ve given, I believe it is imperative that we take the keep as soon as possible. If we manage to do that tonight, with surprise as our ally, we’ll be much better situated – and so will New Crestwood. Caer Bronach will be a perfect base for the Inquisition, and the sooner we hold it, the better. Again, I thank you for your hospitality and your kind offer, but my companions and I will take our leave now.” Pausing, she turned her attention back to Hawke, arching a brow and trying her best not to smile. “Unless, of course, Serah Hawke is interested in staying behind and bolstering your healing supplies.”

“He is emphatically _un_ interested, thank you,” the man himself answered, looking like he’d been sucking on lemons.

“Here to help.” Alysia returned sincerely as she turned to the door. It wasn’t until she knew that Bull was the only one who could see her that she allowed herself to grin. It was always nice when she got the last word with the Champion, and she did so like to hear him splutter. Catching the way the Qunari’s lips were twitching, she winked… and wasn’t at all surprised when he broke out into loud guffaws that almost seemed to shake the walls around them.

~.~.~

“We could have been SLEEPING right now!”

“Forget sleep, we could have been fighting a _dragon_ instead of these pathetic assholes.”

“No, no – Hawke has it right! We’d be dry, and tucked into beds, and-”

“Shut up and _FIGHT_ you imbeciles!”

They were all kidding – Alysia knew that, she really did. Well, Cassandra wasn’t, but that was actually a balm on her anxiety, so she didn’t mind it one bit. The rest weren’t actually upset with her or the choice she’d made. They were blowing off steam like they always did in the middle of a fight. And really, it wasn’t even a difficult one; not when the bandits were thin and looked both tired and haunted. They’d taken Caer Bronach to try and defend themselves, she knew, but they’d only managed to cut themselves off from the outside world. She wondered how many of them had starved, or died from cold and exposure, or been slain by the wandering packs of the dead. 

In times like these, there were so few choices that were truly good ones.

She’d been of a mind to ask for their surrender, to allow them entry into the Inquisition if they’d give up their thieving ways, but she’d been overruled by the rest of her party. Not even Cassandra had backed her, which hadn’t hurt at all. It especially hadn’t hurt that this time it was Hawke who was the first to disagree, frowning at her like he suspected she might be a bit simple. It was just that they had to be so hungry, and so very frightened – killing them without any sort of mercy seemed cruel and hardhearted. It didn’t seem like the sort of thing the Herald of Andraste would do. 

The Inquisitor seemed to be another person entirely, because she bowed to the wishes of her friends and advisors. She offered no parlay, no warning of their attack; she shattered the doors herself, and knew that she would again be crying herself to sleep. Especially when the first two ‘attackers’ were dogs, ones whose ribs she could see standing out clearly against their rain-plastered fur. They were only hungry and trying to protect their masters, but it hadn’t mattered because the Inquisitor had led death to their door. They’d been good dogs, and she prayed they would find peace at the Maker’s side.

Her heart just wasn’t in this fight, and every single one of them knew it. Maybe that’s why they were bantering as they engaged the latest group of poorly-equipped men and women. Maybe they were trying to show Alysia that they were all okay with this, that her decision was the right one; maybe they were trying to make her feel better. If so it wasn’t working, because even if she knew they were joking, each comment against her judgement and her decisions cut at her soul like a knife. She’d disappointed them all with her show of weakness, was continuing to disappoint them by mostly casting barriers and the occasional bolt of cold instead of going on the attack. She was always, always going to disappoint them.

By the time they reached the top of Caer Bronach, she just wanted to lay down and never have to get up again. There were only a few ‘defenders’ left now, and she felt heartsick and disgusted with herself. This wasn’t what she wanted, wasn’t what she was meant to stand for. These men and women had no chance against her, and calling this part of her quest an act of justice was to make a mockery of that ideal. It had been eating at her ever since she broke down the door, and suddenly, she just… couldn’t.

She was _not_ an executioner.

So instead of charging or allowing her friends to charge, Alysia reached for her magic, calling on her knowledge of theory to weave a spell that would suit her purposes. It wasn’t a barrier she cast, but a wall; spanning the breadth of the final tower, it stood between the two parties strong and sure, born of her utter conviction that this was _wrong_. Ignoring the cries of anger and dismay from her own party, she thrust out her chin and strode forward, until she was standing almost up against the shimmering wall of magic.

“Lay down your arms,” she demanded of the bandits, trying her best to pull on the ‘invisible cloak of authority’ that Josephine was always going on about. “I have no wish to continue this fight; you are bested.”

“What, jus’ give up’n let you lot kill us at th’ gallows?” Scoffed the man Alysia took to be the leader, spitting at her feet – the wall kept that out as well as it would stop any weapon or spell. Though it wouldn’t hold for long, some part of her brain thought it was rather glorious while it lasted.

“If you surrender, I promise you your lives.”

“Alysia-”

“Dimples, these men aren’t like the Blades of Hessarian, I promise you.”

“Boss, don’t.”

“Inquisitor! You cannot-”

“Wait. Inquisitor? Yer the Inquisitor?” Another man looked her over after she nodded to his question, sending an uneasy prickle down her spine. “Scrawny li’l thing like you? Ain’t more’n a _girl_. How you think yer goin’ta keep yer friends from guttin’ us? Don’t seem to be likin’ yer decision much, girly.”

“They will let you live, or they will answer to me.”

“Oh, simple as that, eh?”

“Simple as that. But you must lay down your weapons, and if you harm any of my companions after we accept your surrender, your lives will be forfeit. Think about this, _please_. You will be prisoners for a time, but we will feed you and keep you safe from the demons. I don’t… I’m tired of senseless death, Serah. Please cede Caer Bronach to us and allow me to take you into custody.”

“Inquisitor…” Cassandra did _not_ sound pleased, but at least she wasn’t just wordlessly growling like all the males at Alysia’s back. “This is truly what you want?”

“Yes.”

“I see. Then you have my word as a Pentaghast that you will not be harmed if you surrender peacefully.” Alysia could have wept with relief at knowing the stern, staunch Seeker had her back. Cassandra trusted her, even when she didn’t like the road she was leading the Inquisition down. Bull was the next to capitulate, snorting and muttering ‘crazy humans’ as he slid his war axe into its holster. _That_ sound loosened another knot of tension in her, and she thought that maybe, just maybe, this would work. Varric she heard nothing from, but then she hadn’t expected to – he wouldn’t put Bianca away until the bandits had offered their surrender and were in custody. She could respect that, so long as he didn’t break her word.

There was a tense and drawn out moment of silence, and then Hawke let out a bitter curse. A breath later he was right at her side, glaring at the men and women on the other side of her wall with vicious intent. “You harm one hair on her head,” he told them, voice so quiet they all had to strain to hear. Despite that, his tone was rough and savage enough that it made Alysia swallow hard in nervousness, and she wasn’t even the one he was threatening. “And I will slaughter you without an ounce of hesitation. Until then…” Again he looked as though he’d found a lemon wedge in his mouth, but this time she didn’t find much humor in it. “If you do as she asks, I won’t harm you. Now I suggest you surrender before the Lady Inquisitor comes to her senses.”

For the first time, the title on Hawke’s lips wasn’t said in a gentle tease; it was cold and full of condemnation, and it was enough to bring tears to her eyes. Alysia found herself grateful for the horrible rain of Crestwood because it would hide that weakness from foe and friend alike. She kept her head tilted to a proud angle and the rest of her expression fixed – no one needed to know how much the Champion of Kirkwall could hurt her.

Even though she managed to save a handful of lives – even a few Mabari who’d been kenneled and hadn’t been sent out to fight – Alysia didn’t feel any better about herself when it was all said and done. Despite the way her friends relaxed into smiles and banter as soon as their prisoners were safely disarmed and locked away, she didn’t let their warmth penetrate the wall she’d erected around her heart. And as she hoisted the Inquisition’s colors, letting all of Thedas know that they’d triumphed at Caer Bronach, she felt like she’d lost something precious.

Because Hawke wouldn’t wink at her or tease her, and instead of her name the title ‘Lady Inquisitor’ was the only form of address that fell from his lips for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come see me at my [Tumblr](http://tahlreth.tumblr.com/), if you have a mind! I take prompts, so if you have a DA pairing (I accept most) and an idea, shoot me an Ask and I'll see what I can do. <3 I'm turning 30 in like, 12 days and I'm sort of freaking the fuck out about it, so distractions in the way of plot bunnies are much needed and adored. XD


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to get myself on a schedule, so none of my stuff languishes as long as I let it languish. D: I'm _such_ a bad fic mom. D: Probably nobody's even still waiting for this to update, but I'mma do it anyway. XD

Alysia's sleep had been fitful and brief. Though she'd retired late, she was on the wall of Caer Bronach to see the sun rise. Or at least to watch the darkness give way to a dim, hazy, gray-green light - she couldn't see the sun through the heavy curtain of rain. The set of clothes she had on was soaked through, and she could feel the sodden end of her braid clinging to the left side of her neck. She was cold and miserable, but at least that matched how she felt inside.

When a large, heavy hand thumped down on her shoulder, she didn't startle. A good thing, because she was sitting _on_ the wall with her legs dangling over the side. A wrong motion would send her tumbling over, which she was almost sure she didn't want. "Morning Bull."

"Morning Boss. You out here soaking up the atmosphere or just a whole bunch of water?"

"Well the atmosphere is so cheery. I thought I'd revel while we wait for the forward Inquisition scouts. They'll get this place fortified while we seek out the Rift in the lake."

Bull sighed in that way he had, where it was more rumble than anything else. "We shouldn't have made you fight yesterday." Alysia didn't know whether to bristle or weep; she'd die inside if Bull stopped believing in her. Besides Cassandra, he'd been her most stalwart supporter - she was even mostly sure it wasn't only because she was paying him. In the face of such an awful possibility, she went stiff.

"I'm sorry. I know I wasn't much use, but I don't think sticking me on the sidelines would have been the answer." Another rumbling sigh, and the Qunari pulled his hand away to settle at her side, leaning forward on his elbows against the wall.

"Not what I meant, Boss. You're the Inquisitor, no matter how much you hate it." She wanted to cry again, because she didn't think anyone besides Hawke had even _noticed_ , and it sounded like _cared_. "You've got the final say - we can give our input, but we shouldn't try to bully you into doing something you don't agree with."

"You didn't bully me. There was a vote and I lost - resoundingly."

"There shouldn't have _been_ a vote. You took on a burden none of the rest of us were willing to. You haven't made so much of a peep of protest, and I respect that. You weren't meant for this, Boss, but you've done your best and you've done a damned good job of it. We all oughta be more mindful than that and we oughta be backing you. 'Specially since none of us are willing to take the burden of command from you. You're making the choices we don't wanna - so we shouldn't be making you feel like you're making 'em wrong." The tears leaking from her eyes should have felt shameful, but instead it was almost a relief. That was especially true when Bull settled a hand on the top of her head - it felt like friendship. It almost felt like family, the gesture as familiar and achingly strange as the rain that fell on New Crestwood. 

Knight-Commander Valier used to offer the same kind of clumsy physical comfort before he'd sent her to the conclave, then gone missing. Maker willing, he wasn't a Red Templar now.

"I'm still sorry Bull. I... I know that I shouldn't have hesitated." Her tears were affecting her voice - she shouldn't allow it, but she couldn't be strong in front of everyone all the time. With him being Ben-Hassrath, he'd already picked up on how much she hated all of this, and he'd have a good idea of how she was feeling even if she tried to hold it all in. So what was showing a little more weakness in the face of that? "I just... I'm so tired. I'm tired of death and I'm tired of every decision I make having terrible consequences. I'm just trying... I'm trying to do some good, trying to make people just a little happier but it never... I'm tired. I'm... I'm tired of... of ev... everyone telling me the decisions I want to make... everyone says what I want to do is... is wrong." A sob escaped despite her best attempts to swallow it, and the Qunari started to run his hand down her hair. That huge hand, one so used to causing death and mayhem being so gentle with her was Alysia's undoing. "I'm so _tired_ Bull," she told him brokenly, tears falling in earnest as her shoulders shook.

Every breath was a struggle, and the force or her weeping made her fold forward and wrap her arms around her stomach. It was different than the slow, silent tears that so often happened right before she fell asleep. This storm of tears was different even than when she'd wept in Hawke's arms. Alysia hadn't cried like this since she was a little girl, mourning the death of the only person who'd cared about her at the time. Back then, it was like her world had ended, or at the very least shattered; despite being so young, she'd known that nothing would ever be the same. Once things fell apart that way, once _everything_ was different, you could never really pick up all the pieces. Some of them would never be found, leaving gaping holes with jagged edged that ripped you apart whenever you brushed against them. It was beginning to feel like she was more holes than anything else, like she'd managed to gather just enough pieces of herself that those sharp edges were constantly cutting her soul and she was slowly bleeding to death where no one could see.

It was awful of her, with the weight of the world on her shoulders, with her being the only one who could close Rifts and maybe save the world... but for a second, a brief moment no longer than a heartbeat, she considered throwing herself from the wall in the hope that death would find her. Even when the mad impulse faded, she remembered it, knew that in her dreams she craved an ending to it all, and it was almost enough to make her hate herself.

Then there was Bull.

His well muscled arm slid around her shoulders, drawing her against his side so she could lean on him. "I know, Boss. I know. That's why we're here - we should be supporting you, not helping tear you down."

"S-softy," she managed to accuse, making give a rumbling growl of disapproval.

"Don't tell anyone, okay?" The Iron Bull can't be known for being soft." Alysia let out a choked, gasping laugh, turning to hide her face in the Qunari's shoulder. "Rest here for a bit. I won't tell and neither will you. Deal Boss?"

Without the breath or will to speak, Alysia just nestled a little closer and looked up at him, doing her best to smile through the tears. Before she let her head fall again, she thought she saw the Champion of Kirkwall lingering a short distance away out of the corner of her eye. She ignored him, though, in favor of the rock-solid support Bull was offering and burrowed into his side. It was like curling up in a warm, dark mountain cave, one where the mountain itself had promised to look after her and keep her safe. There she wept until she'd cried herself to sleep, secure in the knowledge that The Iron Bull was watching over her and wouldn't let her fall.

~.~.~

The mechanism to drain the lake hadn't been broken.

That fact haunted Alysia as they made their way through what was left of Old Crestwood. Perhaps they should have headed right for the cavern where the Rift awaited her - the Mark was hungry for it, a constant and unpleasant buzz in her left hand - but she was curious. Curious and unable to forget a desperate plea from a Chantry sister on behalf of people that had already lost so much. Gathering remains and sifting through piles of half-rotted junk in the vague hope of finding answers weren't her first choice of activities, but they needed doing. When Hawke and Cassandra looked like they might protest, Bull planted himself firmly behind her.

However he was looking at them, it was enough to cow them into silence. Cassandra only sighed and turned to use her sword to poke through a pile of rotting wood. Hawke though... Hawke was glaring fiercely, and she couldn't tell if it was at her or Bull. The other mage spun away and stalked off to join Varric, leaving her confused and grasping at straw.

They'd been _friends_ , she was sure of it. Andraste's ass, there'd been moments where she'd thought... but she'd obviously been wrong. Bull came to stand at her side, staring after Hawke much like she was. He growled before speaking, sounding frustrated and maybe even angry. "Ignore 'im Boss. Shouldn't have come with us if he minded not being the one in charge so much."

Maybe that was it - maybe Hawke just hadn't realized that he needed to be the one in charge. He'd spent _years_ leading his own merry band of followers; maybe he just couldn't let that go. She grabbed onto the excuse Bull had given Hawke for his behavior, holding it close to her heart. When they got back to Skyhold, when they could just be Alysia and Jarod again, Hawke would stop treating her like she had a disease.

The undead walking the shores were weak and disorganized, coming in groups of two or three when they weren't simply shuffling through the sand on their own. That meant they really didn't need to stay together - even Alysia had no trouble managing alone, and she was by far the weakest member of their party. So while they stayed mostly in eyesight of each other and a shout would bring them all running, the party mostly spread out... though she happened to notice that Varric and Hawke stayed together. She had everyone on the hunt for the remains Sister Vaughn had asked them to seek out, but she was largely focused on trying to solve the puzzle of the flooding of Old Crestwood. The mayor had been so strange, and the mechanism had been intact - there was something not right about it all, and it gave her an uneasy feeling in her stomach.

Alysia would definitely have some questions for him once this was over.

It was while she was searching for the mayor's old home that she stumbled on something else entirely. When she first caught sight of the spirit, she readied her staff on instinct - while there were several in Old Crestwood that seemed content to wander in confusion or for some purpose she didn't understand, she wasn't all that keen on risking possession. But the spirit didn't attack or even come closer; it just gazed steadily at Alysia with an air that reeked of both disdain and curiosity.

"You. What is your purpose here in this world that denies me?" Alysia blinked and slowly lowered her staff, wondering what in the Maker's name the spirit was on about. She _did_ like the spirit's voice, which she flagged as a possible danger before answering.

"I'm sorry... I don't understand your question."

"Of course you do not. Nothing in this place holds any sense. The rocks will not part and the sky will not draw near; the water will not turn to light and these sorry structures slowly come to decay instead of standing firm. No matter how much of my will I pour into my commands, nothing is as I order it to be. How you stand it I do not know." At first, Alysia thought the spirit sounded amusingly frustrated by the real world, but under that, under the pompousness and bluster, she was sure she heard something far more sorrowful. The spirit was lost in a world she - for it spoke with a slightly more feminine voice and Alysia hated to call the spirit an 'it' - couldn't understand or change. Nothing turned out the way it was supposed to for her, and it was something that resonated with Alsyia herself on a deep level.

"So you are... Command? I've met Justice before, and I think Cole was Compassion before he... um. And there have been a few others, but I've never met Command. I didn't know that you'd be a spirit, not a demon."

"You thought Command a demon?" The spirit's whole demeanor lightened as she laughed, a sound that brought to mind both the slow movement of heavy rocks and the tinkling of delicate bells. "I have no wish to suck the world dry, for then what would be left to obey me? Just because I am not soft does not make me one of your demons, child."

Alysia felt her cheeks turn pink and was glad that would likely mean nothing to the spirit who had chastised her. "Sorry. I haven't made much of a study of spirits and the Fade. If Solas were here-"

"I do not care to discuss hypotheticals that have no chance of coming to be. I wish to know why nothing in this world follows my directives. It is infuriating, child, and I wish it to stop." Again was that vulnerability overlaid by harsh frustration, and Alysia gave her a crooked smile.

"This isn't the Fade. Here things aren't shaped by will and command alone."

"What a beastly place. How do you stand it, child? There is something that is the same in us, though I feel you fight it with every breath you take."

"That's not-"

"Do not deny me! My will may mean little here, but I know what I am and I sense a thread of it in you. Why you fight it is your own business - I merely wish to understand how you manage to exist in a place that is so maddeningly disobedient."

"Well I don't really like to..." Alysia stopped and thought a moment, chewing on her lower lip as she thought on how she could explain. Command wouldn't understand that she simply didn't want to order anyone (or any object) to do anything. She lead because she had to, because no one else would, and whatever likeness Command felt between them was not there by any choice of Alysia's own making. "I suppose I was born here - I know the Fade only a little. So I'm accustomed to not getting my way."

"Ugh. That is not helpful in the slightest."

"It must be difficult for you, this place."

" _Yes_. Not only does nothing order itself to my liking, but there are demons and other spirits who have the gall to threaten me! Were we in the Fade, I would not stand for such things, but here... here I have no choice but to run. It is maddening, child of Command."

"I'm not a-" No, arguing was a waste of time. That wouldn't get her anywhere, and she knew that if her friends discovered her conversing with a spirit like this, they would be less than pleased. "Couldn't you go back to the Fade? There the world wouldn't fight against your nature."

"I refuse to leave until _something_ in this wretched place acts as an instrument of my will. Speaking with you has brought me no closer to bringing that about, so here I shall remain until I unlock the secret that will get something to obey me."

"... what if I did something for you?" As soon as the words left her mouth, everything in Alysia was cursing her for a fool. Not all demons were brute strength and inelegant attempts at possession. Some were crafty and patient, and if this spirit was not what she had claimed, Alysia had just opened the door to her own demise. Not only that, but she had put the _whole world_ in jeopardy, because if she fell to a demon what hope was there to close the Rifts and stop Corypheus? Again her misguided wish to help could have disastrous consequences, and she-

"You would take my command, child?" The spirit asked, sounding both astonished and pleased. "You fight what I am, what you are, so hard, and yet you would work my will?"

"So long as it brings no harm to the people I protect," Alysia answered through the ball of dread in her throat, hoping that would be enough to save everything she had worked so hard to build.

"Still you fear that I am a demon. I suppose I should not fault you your caution. I accept your offer, and my order to you is this - deep in the caves where you will venture to quench the thirst of the abomination on your hand, there is a demon of rage who vexes me." Alarm roared through Alysia as she looked down at the Mark where it pulsed with a sickly green light. The spirit could... feel it? Did the spirit know what it was, what it was mean to do? Had she stumbled upon something far greater than a disaster waiting to happen? "It has chased me multiple times, and I wish it gone, never to be in my presence again. Vanquish it for me, child of Command, and I will leave this place to it's madness and return to the Fade."

"Before you go - after I obey your command - will you tell me what you know of this?" Alysia asked, raising her left hand and fighting the urge to wince as it throbbed. It always hurt, but when she looked at it, when she _thought_ about it, the pain was much worse.

"I will tell you now, for it is little and not worth hoarding. I know it is something that was never meant to be yours, something that hungers in a way that could spell doom for us all. It will never obey Command, nor will it obey you forever. Even the one who created it would be wise to handle it with care now that it has spent so long on its own. That is what I know, and now you will go forth and do my will."

Disappointment was an old friend of Alysia's, so she just offered the spirit a small smile and an even smaller bow. At least the task she needed to complete was one she likely would have done anyway. It would have the added bonus of keeping the people of Crestwood safe. "I'll return to you when it's done. I hope I won't make you wait too long."

"Time means nothing, child of Command. Simply see that it _is_ done, and I shall be pleased." Alysia couldn't help but roll her eyes at the title the spirit had bestowed on her - she didn't like it, it wasn't accurate, and she'd have more chance of stopping the rain than getting the spirit to cease using it.

As she ducked out of the half-destroyed home Command had made her home, Alsyia was again glad that the rest of her party hadn't met the strange spirit. As much as Bull enjoyed killing demons, she didn't think he'd be quite so enthusiastic if he knew it was partially at the behest of a spirit.

~.~.~

Hawke and Varric found the mayor's old home and a note that had somehow survived the flooding, one that Alysia found extremely ominous. All signs were pointing to an act that she couldn't approve of, though she had no doubt that it had saved lives - it had condemned too many others for her to condone. Still, she didn't speak of it to anyone else, harboring her suspicions and doubts in her heart. There were things that needed doing, after all, and she didn't want to muddy the waters with a debate over something that might not even be true. She would wait and confront Gregory Dedrick once the Rift was closed.

Maker, she hoped she was wrong, and that Andraste could convince the Maker to forgive the mayor if she wasn't.

The gray-green haze of the late afternoon was fading to the true gray of evening when the whole party came back together to stand in front of the caves. The smell of dank, musty stone competed with the scent of rotting dead things, and Alysia wished she didn't have to venture down into the dark. The Mark thrummed in her hand like an excited bee, every vibration stinging and sending a small shock up the length of her arm - from the way it was reacting, she knew the Rift had to be large. There would be more demons than usual then, and stronger ones as well; the deaths of all those people in the Fifth Blight would have weakened the Veil ahead of the most recent catastrophe, and there could be nothing good waiting down there. 

But she had to close the Rift, and she had to find and fight the rage demon so Command could go home.

So down she would go against her will, to do the duty that no one else would.

Child of Command indeed.


End file.
